Hold Me Close (Javiarc)

One- Nightmares

It was three in the morning, the sun still not due for a couple hours. Javier lived alone in the woods, enjoying his peace and quiet with his special pet. Of course, be would never say that to Marc. It would get him angry which was his own way of coping with depression.

He'd scream and yell then hide someplace to cry. Sometimes under a bed, other times in a shallow box. Javier had one time found him sulking inside a teapot.

Javier was merely grabbing milk for his cereal, reaching the fridge with a yawn. That's when he heard it. Trained ears picked up soft sobs and whails. Curious, he searched the kitchen for the sound.

"Marc?" he called.

And with a hiccup, the low cries halted. There was an occasional sniffle and--through trial and error--he found the source.

A small, lanky, four-inch figure was curled into the bottom of a teapot. He was drowning in his own self-pity. Marc furiously rubbed at his eyes, shouting at Javier immediately, "Wh-What's your deal?! All I want is some privacy!"

"Were . . . Were you--?"

"No, I wasn't! leave me alone!!"

Javier had managed to calm and sooth him into coming out of the pot. He scooped Marc into his hands, running an occasional finger down his back. Marc had eventually fallen asleep, resting uneasily in Javier's hands.

Javier learned from then on to give him his space if he needed to cry. As much as it pained him to hear his tiny whails of depression, it would only worsen if he were to try and find the source. It would take Marc through a train wreck of emotions--sadness and anger.

"Hnng . . . Aughh . . . "

Javier was immediately awake in a second, searching the room for the groans of pain he was hearing just now. His eyes instantly snapped to the pillow beside him, staring at the small figure no bigger than his finger. Emerald pools softened at the sight of him.

Marc was curled around himself, arms wrapped firmly around his stomach. He squirmed, kicking. His eyes were shut tightly, face stricken with fear. Or was that anger?

He's just having a bad dream, Javier thought briefly, You can't mother him.

He didn't get much sleep other than what he had already gotten. It was sickening to hear him bawl just by his ear.

Occasionally, there were gaps in between the small snivels and Javier would be granted rest. His short minute of silence would soon be up--however--and the minute whimpers would start again.

Several times he tried to scoop Marc up. Yet--even in his sleep--he knew his hands were coming. He'd squirm away, another groan eminating from him.

It was now six and Javier's patience was running thin. He thought of just waking Marc up but he was too tired to deal with an argument that early in the morning.

He reached for him one last time only for Marc to swat at the approaching fingers then roll over. Although he was still asleep, Javier couldn't help but be pissed. He swung his legs over the bed with an agitated sigh, growling at himself as he left the room, "Fine. Be that way."

He stomped his way through the hall, swift steps taking him to the kitchen. He yanked the fridge open with a slam, pulling a carton of milk off the lower shelf. He reached into the cupboard for cereal, not caring what type.

He snatched a bowl and spoon, making a cheap breakfast. He pulled up a stool, sitting at the island in the middle of the kitchen.

He ate slowly, glaring at the Froot Loops swimming in his milk. His hair looked terrible and he hadn't even grabbed his glasses. Javier dragged a hand down his face, tired and pissed.